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[personal profile] jon_chaisson
It's time to get on home, I thought. Time to leave.
On the eve of Christmas, well past rush hour,
I found myself in the back of the store, cutting up boxes

And wondering why I was still there when everyone else
Had already fled the place--even the mallwalkers
And the absent-minded husbands had already admitted defeat.

On the eve of the holiday, a long way away from family
I found myself finishing the work no one else wanted to do.
I chose not to complain, I figured I could use the cash
And I had the entire place to myself until they kicked me out.
I cleaned and I stocked, I listened and I planned,
And made sure the twenty-sixth would be the best ever.

The selling floor can be
a lonely place on Christmas Eve,
But only if you let it.

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